Absolute Magnitude
by wonderwoundedhearers
Summary: It seems to Spock that the closer he gets to Nyota, the brighter she shines. Fluff/Lime/Lem. Th/s.


**A Vulcan's Kiss**

"_I can take my clothes off,_

_I cannot fall in love…"_

–_The Frug, Rilo Kiley_

From the very beginning of their tentative relationship Spock had made sure to inform Lieutenant Uhura of the limitations of his…genetics.

He had not been explicit, but it was sufficient to say that he had explained some of the more trivial technicalities concerning his parentage and his Vulcan nature. Trivial, that was, to Vulcans, but not so trivial to humans.

There were more complications to their relationship, Spock thought, than there were advantages. And yet, though he would entertain that thought occasionally, one look from Nyota could silence him.

She was giving him that look at that exact moment, her dark brown eyes catching his across the main console in the xenolinguistics lab.

"Commander Spock? May I speak to you for a moment?"

They were not alone, four cadets worked at various screens around the lab, and so he gave her a nod, directing her towards the open door of an analyst's vacant office across the room.

Once they were inside, the door shut behind them, her façade dropped.

"Spock, are you alright?" Nyota asked, stepping closer.

He halted her progress, shifting back towards the door. "Someone could come in at any moment, Nyota. It is best to remain at a safe distance."

She gave him a quick quirk of her lips, resembling a smile, though he plainly saw disappointment flash across her face. It was hard for him to understand why he felt it too, so keenly, but he did and it ached deep beneath his breastbone.

"What did you wish to talk to me about?" Spock asked, one hand clasping the other behind his back.

Nyota smiled slightly. "I wanted to tell you now while I have the chance that Gaila asked me to go to a new bar in the quarter with her, right after I'm done here. I won't be able to see you tonight."

"Very well." Spock inclined his head. "Thank you for informing me. I will rearrange my evening accordingly."

She watched him, silent, eyes flickering from one of his own to the other rapidly.

He waited for a moment, before inquiring, "Was that all?"

Nyota gave a swift nod. "Yes."

She quickly stepped forward and lifted herself up on her toes to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, so close to the corner of his mouth he felt his lips part slightly in automatic anticipation of more.

But he was to receive nothing else. Nyota stepped around him and opened the door, slipping out of the small office space and returning to her research.

Spock lingered for a moment or two, his thoughts churning as much as the sensations in his chest.

He had seen Nyota preparing herself for one of her excursions with her roommate once before, and for a reason nearly inexplicable to Spock it was a memory that was firmly fixed in his mind.

He could recall the scent of the slightly sweet perfume she had dabbed between her breasts and behind her exposed knees while he had stood behind her, silent, watching. He could see the deep blue dress she had worn, the material sweeping lowly across her back and ending sharply across her thighs. He could remember the desire he had felt – the _urge_ – to curl his fingers in the long loose tresses of her sleek black hair that had settled across her back and shoulders.

Spock could also remember the smile she had worn as she had kissed him farewell on the cheek and told him that he would see her the next morning. That had been when they were mere friends, his presence in her quarters at that time of night only necessitated by his inability to sleep and his remembrance of Nyota's offer of borrowing a book of poetry in her native language.

He felt now what he had felt then: uncertainty, anxiety, and more than a small amount of anger.

She had met him the morning after that night, over a year ago, at the coffee bar on campus for their regular early morning ritual. Nyota would have a coffee, black, and Spock would observe as they spoke of their day, their interests, before they parted ways. That morning he had observed the renewed shine in her eyes, the slight flush that sat high on her cheekbones, and the relaxed state of her muscles throughout her body, all indicating that she had engaged in physical union the night before.

It had unsettled him greatly. His meditation that night had been troublesome and difficult because of it.

Even after so many years on Earth, it was hard for Spock to successfully access his feelings. His home planet had nearly beaten them into submission, and now Nyota was trying to draw them out.

But he knew this night that Nyota accompanied her friend she would return to him as she was, _sans_ scent of intercourse. She had informed him before, many times, that their relationship was monogamous, and it pleased him greatly that she found his attentions satisfying enough not to seek out another.

Though Spock was unsure of how deeply the relationship could progress _emotionally_, there was no question of how it could progress physically. He had never engaged in sexual intercourse before Nyota, having never had the desire to, but once he could no longer deny his human wants and needs it had been like a simple mathematical equation.

They had come together easily, slaking a need so primal in Spock that he had not needed meditation that night so calm was his mind, and Nyota had been patient with him, making sure they were both physically rewarded before allowing them total rest.

Patience was a virtue, his mother had always told him. The human expression was one that Vulcans also considered a worthwhile pursuit, but occasionally Spock wondered if Nyota's patience was misplaced.

It all returned to the same question: how long would their relationship last for when it was built upon a short friendship and mainly consisted of sexual intercourse?

Spock considered his Vulcan limitations as the main reason he was so pessimistic about the future of his and Nyota's relationship, and yet he could not give her up, for some inexplicably confusing reason he knew not of.

He suddenly realised he had been standing in the empty office alone for longer than he had meant to. Nyota affected him in ways he had not anticipated in the beginning, but he could not hold it against her.

Spock stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him, and watched for a moment as Nyota recalibrated a receiver on one cadet's console. Her eyes did not meet his as she worked, and he found himself mysteriously displeased.

He picked up his PADD and continued his work.

* * *

><p>Spock had finished his duties for the day earlier than he had anticipated, his programming and managing work complete to a satisfactory standard, and so he decided to walk to his off-campus apartment instead of catching the next shuttle.<p>

Though Earth was nothing like Vulcan – especially in architecture, weather, and geography – the planet still soothed his nerves. San Francisco was interesting and diverse, especially in the area surrounding the Starfleet Academy campus, and the city had become a second home to him.

Walking at a steady pace down the street towards his quarters, he enjoyed the constant thrumming of the city and the events unfolding around him. Children were playing on the archaic stoops of San Francisco's older buildings, different species were going about their daily business, and–

A sight made him halt.

On the furthest corner of the street, at the fruit and vegetable stalls assembled there, stood Nyota. She was still in her Starfleet uniform, the dark red looking lighter in the sun, with her darkened skin glowing and long black hair shining attractively.

Next to her stood a dark-haired Bajoran male, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a smile at her.

"Are you sure?" Spock heard the male ask as he moved closer to their position.

"I'm sure." Nyota laughed, twisting a brown paper bag closed with a flick of her wrist.

The male shrugged. "Worth a try. Couldn't just let you slip past."

Spock wondered at the surge of emotion that washed through him then, urging him to interrupt the conversation between the two.

Nyota gave the male a curt farewell, before picking up several brown paper bags and stepping into the store.

Spock watched as the male gave a long-suffering sigh, his eyes firmly on Nyota's bare retreating legs, before turning and walking away. Spock could not stop himself from walking up to the store and stepping inside, eyes searching for Nyota.

He wondered why she was buying provisions instead of being with her roommate, as she had told him she would be. He had never known Nyota to be a liar, and the fact that her behaviour was indicating she was did not sit well with him.

Spock found her at the counter across the store, forearms resting against the edge as she looked within a dark metal box the proprietor was holding up to her.

"Are they alright in there?" She asked.

The human male gave her a broad smile. "Sure are. They live longer in the dark, and it keeps them fresher, too."

Nyota bobbed her head in a nod. "Okay. Can I have enough for two? Oh, and what do they go well with?"

"Traditionally they're sautéed in Rhombolian butter," the male answered.

Spock's eyebrow quirked in surprise, and he found himself leaving the store before either of the humans noticed him.

On Vulcan, Rhombolian butter was used to sauté large molluscs – it was considered to be a delicacy. Spock had to wonder why Nyota had lied to him, and why she was buying Vulcan molluscs.

Placing himself across the street, Spock waited for Nyota to exit the store. She did so moments later, a large brown paper bag in the crook of one arm and a small metal case in her other hand.

Spock followed, intrigued, as Nyota wound her way back through the streets to her apartment building on the edge of the Starfleet Academy campus. She had only moved out of her assigned dormitory a few weeks ago, choosing to room again with Gaila in the newly built building for more privacy.

Though Spock was no longer her immediate instructor they were both wary of the precarious position they were both in. Her new apartment afforded them the luxury of time together without having to sneak around, especially since Gaila was already aware of their relationship. The Orion was hardly ever at the apartment regardless.

Spock followed Nyota up, his footsteps silent behind her clicking heels, and when she typed in the unlock code on the front door of the apartment he slipped inside after her.

He watched, eyes keen, as she set down her groceries and shrugged off her Starfleet jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs at the small dining table in front of the largest window of the apartment. The afternoon sun streamed in, brightly illuminating her work.

Spock looked on as she untied her high ponytail, letting her hair fall loose down her back before pulling it all up once more into a messy bun. Next to go were her black boots, and the sound of the zippers' teeth coming undone affected something deep within his body.

Spock was unsure how much longer he could stay still and silent in the shadows while Nyota's innocent actions teased him so relentlessly.

The pale red camisole she had worn beneath her jacket hugged her sensuous curves, and Spock's keen eye could discern her breasts were bare beneath. His fingers itched strangely to touch her flesh, knowing he would find it silky and warm under his hands.

Nyota unpacked her provisions, revealing interesting choices of fruits and vegetables. She went about setting up a pan on the stove, humming to herself as she did. Spock watched as she cut and diced the vegetables, before moving onto the fruits and–

"I hope he likes it," he heard her murmur to herself as she stirred what was beginning to look like the sauce for the Vulcan dish _pok tar_.

Nyota let the sauce bubble as she went to work on the small metal case. When it opened, Spock could discern the pale Vulcan molluscs inside. She dropped them into a pan of cold water that she had set up on the table in the sunlight – they died instantly.

Spock was confused, and he spoke aloud before he could check himself. "What is this?"

Nyota gasped, spinning around to stare at him. He could nearly hear her heart thudding against her ribs.

"Spock? What are you doing here?" She asked breathlessly.

He took a slow step forwards into the light, eyeing the Vulcan food being prepared throughout the small kitchen.

He told her the truth. "I was walking home when I saw you conversing with the Bajoran male. I stopped. Your actions piqued my curiosity, not to mention you had told me not a few hours before that you were visiting the quarter with Gaila and I would not see you."

Nyota's face fell. "_Crap_."

"Indeed." Spock lifted an eyebrow. "You lied to me."

"_Spock_," Nyota sighed, her hands finding a place to rest on her hips.

A strange sensation took up residence inside of his chest, an aching that was anything but physical yet felt so real.

"Why did you lie to me, Nyota?" He asked, his voice stern. "Tell me."

She looked up at him, her brows drawing down simultaneously. "You don't know?"

Spock said nothing, simply watched her as a sinking sensation emerged in his stomach.

A smile twisted her lips, banishing her confused look. "You really don't know."

"_Nyota_–"

She cut him off with a laugh that had the sinking sensation in his stomach disappearing as rapidly as it had appeared in the first place.

"Spock." She grinned. "It's your birthday. This was _meant_ to be a surprise. I was going to cook and then call for you to come over. I've even got your mother waiting on the line to give you her birthday greetings."

Her explanation made Spock pause. It was indeed his date of birth, but as he had never taken notice of the day before – without his mother present, of course, as she had been most enthusiastic about celebrating the event every year – he had seen no reason to start now that he was in a relationship with Nyota.

Nyota caught his gaze with her own. She looked worried. "Is this okay? I…I didn't want to take any liberties, but…" She shrugged her shoulders half-heartedly, her words trailing off.

Spock found himself in an odd position, something catching in his chest as he eyed the half-cooked dishes surrounding them through new eyes. They were _for _him – a meal to celebrate his birthday, cooked by his lover.

He found himself asking, "Why did you not replicate the food? Vulcan cuisine is…notoriously difficult to perfect."

He watched as her face fell. "Oh. Well… I wanted to cook it myself. I thought it would be," she bit her lip, "…special."

Spock opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment there was a beep from the wall-mounted pad across the room.

Without another word, Nyota strode out of the kitchen and into the lounge. Spock followed, feeling ever so slightly lost.

"Computer, connect call," Nyota commanded, as she lifted a knitted jacket from the dark brown couch and slipped it over her bare shoulders.

The image of Spock's mother immediately appeared on the large screen affixed to opposite cream-coloured wall.

She smiled widely, flashing her straight white teeth. "Nyota, it's wonderful to see you again. How is everything–"

His mother paused as Spock stepped forward.

"Spock!" His mother exclaimed. "What are you…"

"I see," he murmured, "that you have spoken to Nyota before now."

She had the grace to look guilty. "Well, she only wanted to know your favourite Vulcan meals. I obliged." His mother looked towards Nyota. "In the process we may have gotten to know each other."

The two women smiled at each other, and Spock felt an odd warmth fill his body.

"You were remiss," his mother's dark eyes smiled at him, "to keep her from me."

Spock looked towards Nyota to see she was looking down, away from him. He wondered if she thought that he was angry at her speaking to his mother without his knowledge. On the contrary, he found it…pleasing that she would go to such extents for him.

"Yes," Spock replied. "I see now that I was."

Nyota looked up at him, a hopeful smile on her face.

His mother gently interrupted the moment. "I won't keep you. I just wished to give you my birthday greetings. Happy birthday, Spock."

He inclined his head. "Thank you, mother. I trust that you will pass along my greetings to father."

She gave him a smile. "Of course." She looked towards Nyota. "Speak soon, Nyota."

The call cut off, and they were left in silence.

Spock's thoughts churned once again, questioning the strange sensations that were sweeping through him at Nyota's thoughtfulness and the effort she had gone to for a date so insignificant to him.

Nyota suddenly gasped. "The food!"

She rushed past him, into the kitchen, and Spock followed at a near-tentative pace. He objectively considered his earlier suspicions, his current…_feelings_, and came to the conclusion that Nyota deserved reassurance, thanks, and a meaningful apology.

His gaze settled on her and he found her sautéing the molluscs, the other dishes already prepared and the table cleaned and set for dinner.

She turned to him with a coy smile flitting across her lips. "Sit, Spock. Relax."

He did as directed, taking a seat at the table and lacing his fingers together to rest on the top. It satisfied him to watch Nyota gracefully dance around the kitchen on bare feet, plating the sautéed molluscs and readying the _pok tar_.

The scent of the food took him back many years, years where he had sat in a kitchen and watched as his mother prepared meals for the family alongside their cook.

Nyota's voice brought him out of his reverie. "Here you are."

He looked down at the molluscs plated before him, perfectly sautéed and smelling deliciously of the Rhombolian butter she had used. He instinctively caught her wrist before she could step away, drawing her closer as he next took in her scent.

Crisp and clean, she smelt of a cool Vulcan breeze in the height of summer, with a sweetness he could not identify.

Spock looked up into her eyes. "Thank you, Nyota."

His thumb absently caressed the tendons of her slim wrist, and he felt her pulse accelerate beneath his touch.

"You're welcome," she replied, her voice soft.

Before she turned away, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. He relished the warmth.

They ate in silence, exchanging looks across the dinner table and occasionally pouring each other more spice tea. The quiet was welcome, and Spock soaked in the comfort of a well-made meal in the company of his beautiful and intelligent lover.

When the fruit salad was served, the silence was broken.

"I want to apologise," Spock said. "I feel that my earlier actions were based on unfounded suspicions and that they were not fair to you."

Nyota smiled. "Apology accepted. But I know it was wrong to lie to you, even to surprise you, and that Bajoran guy did proposition me, so I think it's fair that you were a little…_illogical_."

Spock felt the corner of his lip twitch slightly. "Quite."

Once dessert was finished, Spock helped Nyota clean away the dishes before suggesting that they take the remainder of the spice tea and sit in the lounge. Nyota agreed, and soon enough they were comfortably sat on the soft dark brown couch, close enough that their sides met.

"Thank you for tonight, Nyota," Spock murmured. "I appreciate the effort you went to. All of the dishes were well-made."

"Your mother gave me some tips," she said, smirking against her glass of spice tea. "_Pok tar _is, apparently, very temperamental."

Spock inclined his head in agreement. "And yet, you made it perfectly well the very first time. Taking advice and translating it into the practical is a difficult skill. You always exceed expectations, Nyota."

Her cheeks pinked, but her eyes did not leave his. "Thank you."

At the sight of Nyota's rare blush, his stomach seemed to clench pleasantly. In reaction, Spock placed his spice tea on the low glass table in front of them before slowly turning to his human lover and running his hand up her arm.

Nyota's glass followed his, setting down on the glass table, and her eyes seemed darker when he next looked into them. He felt his temperature rise in response to her obvious desire, scenting her lust beginning to swirl in the air between them.

Nyota was the first to lean forward, taking his face between her hands and pressing her soft mouth to his. She kissed him gently, drawing him out and into her as if she wished to consume his very essence.

Her passion always amazed Spock – she seemed to possess the all-consuming desire of a Vulcan, so powerful were her feelings.

Slowly, savouring the taste of spice tea on her lips, he kissed her back. There was no hurry to reach physical union, no ultimate goal acknowledged between them – it was a simple kiss, and yet he felt as if it were touching his very soul.

"Thank you," he whispered again, his voice fervent and husky from desire. "Thank you…"

Spock's hands reached up, caressing Nyota's slender neck as she sighed into his kiss. Her skin beneath his fingers sent sparks of recognition through his body – he could feel her desire as if it were his own, and he revelled in it.

"_Spock_…" Nyota gasped against his kiss. "Spock, take me to bed. Please."

He complied instantly, sliding his arms beneath and around her and lifting her into his hold with ease. She gasped again as he pulled her against his chest, smiling against his mouth in a way that had his usually-steady pulse racing.

* * *

><p>Hours later, propped up on an elbow and overlooking the sleeping Nyota's curves, Spock considered her. From her pleasing shape in the moonlight filtering through the shaded window, to her thoughtful dinner plans, he considered it all.<p>

Spock wondered if, perhaps, he had been too hasty in believing all he had been taught and told about the limitations of Vulcan nature. He knew that Vulcan emotions were more complex and far deeper than those found in humans, but Vulcans could not show those intrinsic feelings.

And yet…he was half-human.

Spock knew that both sides of him desired Nyota's beautiful body, and, though Vulcan teachings demanded the control of any outward appearances, he had adequately proven that his human side allowed him to act out the desires both his human and Vulcan sides felt.

Could it possibly be the same for…love?

He had been schooled to save emotion and physical congress for his bond mate, but when he had thrown aside his acceptance to the Vulcan Science Academy he had also thrown away his arranged bonding with T'Pring.

He was on Earth, not under any of the rules on Vulcan, and he was free to do…many things.

Spock took in Nyota's peaceful expression once again - her cheeks were pink from their union and her hair was in pleasing disarray – and considered whether his human side would allow him to access all that he felt for Nyota and, more importantly, to show it.

He closed his eyes.

There was affection – most definitely – and a longing for her when she was far from him and, on some occasions, not so far. There was jealousy of the men who constantly fluttered around her – a prime example being the Bajoran male from earlier that day – and a possessiveness he was not sure was entirely innocent. There was also pride, and awe, and contentment, and wonder, and…something entirely _more_.

Was that love – that twisting, warm feeling encompassing his vital organs that he had previously mistaken for lust and desire?

He was sure that the answer to his question was within the fact that he could not answer it. He was sure that if he were not in love with Nyota he could say so, even without meaning or feeling, but even the thought of denying it made him feel…reluctant.

Suddenly, a mildly warm hand was pressing against his face. "Spock?"

He opened his eyes at Nyota's husky sleep-filled whisper. "Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"Hmm."

He watched her eyelids flutter, eyelashes caressing her cheek. "Would you rather I didn't?"

She looked up at him once more, brow drawn down in sleepy confusion. "Didn't what?"

She yawned, pressing her face into the pillow. Spock's lips twitched in amusement and realisation.

"You are tired. You don't know what you are saying. Sleep, Nyota," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She was slumbering once more before his lips had even brushed her skin, which was unfortunate as she did not see Spock's slight slip of expression as he realised he had bestowed such an unfamiliar tender and affectionate gesture on his lover's forehead.

* * *

><p>When Spock awoke, he realised his musings the night before had delayed the time of his awakening for Nyota was already awake and watching him propped up on one elbow. The similarity of her pose to that of his last night amused him.<p>

"Good morning."

His greeting caused Nyota's eyes to focus more sharply on him and for her to clearly exit the thoughts she had been trapped in.

Her responding smile made his heart flutter strangely. "Good morning, Spock. Did you sleep well?"

This was a familiar question, one that Nyota had asked on numerous occasions after they had spent the night together, but Spock had never thought that she had asked it so formally before. Perhaps she had and he had never noticed. Perhaps his night's ruminations had been more on the scale of revelations.

In a gesture that was as surprisingly easy as the kiss he had bestowed to her temple a few hours earlier, Spock took her hand in his and gently rubbed the tips of their fingers together.

Nyota's eyebrows flew up in surprise, but she did not pull her hand away. "Spock?"

"I had so many interesting thoughts last night," Spock said softly, eyes on their connected fingertips. "I think I have had an epiphany."

Nyota let out a small surprised laugh, before smothering it with her free hand.

Spock watched, bemused. "Have I said something humorous?"

She shook her head, her laughing ceasing. "No. I'm sorry. It's just…I never imagined Vulcans had epiphanies before."

"Most, I imagine, do not. This certainly seems like a rare occurrence."

"Tell me why. What was your epiphany?" Nyota smiled, leaning forwards to kiss his naked chest and seemingly shaking off her previous formalness.

"First," Spock said, "I wish to know why you seemed so cool this morning. Was last night not satisfactory?"

She laughed softly, cocking her head to one side. "Last night was amazing, as always." Her smile wavered. "It's just…"

"Go on," Spock urged her.

Nyota shrugged. "It's nothing really. You just usually seem more detached in the mornings after. It puts me on edge."

Spock then wondered if perhaps it was _he _that was acting out of character, and he was only just noticing how much Nyota had accommodated him. Her patience astounded him.

He decided in that moment to give something back.

"Follow," he commanded her gently, straightening and placing his middle and index fingers against hers.

Nyota did as instructed, pressing her middle and index fingers against his. They met in a small cross and Spock closed his eyes as he felt her mind brush his.

She was so bright, so light and beautiful, and it soothed his soul.

He felt her realisation before she spoke. "Spock, is this…"

"I have heard," his lip twitched in the beginnings of a smile, "that humans often refer to it as a 'Vulcan kiss'. The term is…adequate. It is an intimate gesture of affection."

Nyota went quiet, and Spock opened his eyes to see her smiling as he had never seen her smile before. Her joy washed through his body, and he had never felt so at peace…or more loved.


End file.
